Jail
by Shurely
Summary: Zeke has taken Kessler's offer, and now waits in a small cell for something - anything - to happen. But the accommodation isn't as exciting as he thought it would be. Set during Cole's battle with Alden, in Zeke's perspective. Strong language. Please review!


Author's Note: Don't ask me why this is all American - it was ten o' clock when I wrote this. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys this, and please review! Also, check out my deviantART ( ) which has loads more stuff on it! Thank you!

Zeke crumpled onto his bed, tired of pacing. He'd already shouted for the assholes to open the door, but they didn't listen. They never listened. What did they expect him to do: miraculously escape from the man who knew how to fully activate the Ray Sphere? He snorted to himself and closed his eyes. Right. What a load of crap. Why had he listened to Kessler in the first place? Had he really been that gullible? Well, now he thought about it, he'd been desperate. Desperate for power, desperate for freedom. He was sick of being in the same dump. Yeah, it was improving because of Cole - he thought about his friend and the suffocating guilt arose again - but it wasn't permanent. Besides, he wasn't even getting any credit out of it! He, the guy who had offered the 'electric man' beer when it had been rationed! He punched his pillow, infuriated but helpless, and then adjusted his sunglasses. They were no use inside, but they were comfortable and meant a lot to him. They reminded him of the days when he would screw around with Cole and they weren't stuck in the damn quarantine.  
He heard loud footsteps coming towards his room, and immediately he sat up, alert for any escape opportunities. Forget what he'd just said about miraculous escapes: if Cole MacGrath could live after being struck by lightning, then hell, Zeke Jedediah Dunbar wasn't gonna be contained like some animal! Although, he did wish he had his revolver. The First Sons had taken it off him, and now he felt kinda naked without it.  
The bolt to his room's door slid open, and he jumped in shock. There stood Kessler, clad in white, clutching the doorway like he was unstable. Then he walked straight in, casting a swift glance at Zeke, before settling into the corner on the ground, staring into space. The door closed behind him; Zeke mentally cursed. Dammit! he thought angrily. What the hell does this dude want? He didn't dare speak, for fear of the punishment. If Kessler _could_ activate the Ray Sphere - which he had already begun to highly doubt - then God knew what else he could do. He didn't particularly want to be shouted at by some mad lunatic, or worse, have his head shattered like an eggshell by the metallic arm of his. It looked like something out of a crappy futuristic sci-fi movies, with robot humans and the Armageddon and shit like that probably conjured up by Michael Bay.  
Finally, he plucked all the courage left in him, and cleared his throat. Kessler didn't even look at him. Zeke became indignant. What, so he wasn't worth his attention? "I don't want to seem blunt or anything, but this is _my_ room, and I want you to get out." He paused. "Actually, screw that, I'm gonna be as blunt as I can. Get the fuck out." He pointed to the exit, half-scared, half-proud. At least he'd stood up for himself. He wasn't going to take any bullshit from a coward like Kessler.  
The man coughed violently, like he was having a seizure, and for a moment Zeke was concerned. Then he caught a whiff of the heavy alcohol lingering around him, and pulled a face. Great. A mad lunatic who maxed out on his beer intake _and_ had a robotic arm. Could it get any worse? He clenched his fists and glared at Kessler with open hostility. If he was as drunk as Zeke thought he was (and he'd had some experience with drunk men before), then he might be able to get out. Sure, he could get injured along the way, but he was as sick of his jail as he was of Empire City; any sort of break-out, regardless of the measures he'd go to, was worth it. Maybe he could apologize to Cole for betraying him-  
Kessler opened his mouth, and Zeke automatically flinched. But nothing happened. Nothing was said. The drunk man just sat there, gaping, until he closed his mouth and sighed wearily, like he'd wanted to say something but had either forgotten or decided against it. He burped, which Zeke found pretty funny and interesting: men with power were still human, capable of getting wasted and burping and forgetting their sentences.  
Minutes passed, and he found he was speechless. Instead of trying to break the tension, he turned on the TV, glad it still worked. Sometimes there were blackouts in the area, causing his TV to fizzle and die. He liked to blame them on Cole, and when he did, it gave him hope. Not that he needed hope in a situation like his. All he needed was that stupid Ray Sphere to bestow powers on everyone in Empire City. Then he'd be able to take out goons like Kessler with ease. Hell, Kessler could even be killed by the blast!  
The man who was the centre of his thoughts turned his head slightly in the direction of the TV, not really looking at it but obviously affected by the sudden noise it blared out. Zeke didn't bother to turn the volume down. If Kessler had a problem, he'd have to deal with it. No man gets disturbed when he watches TV, especially when the soccer finals are still going on, despite the news of the quarantine and the government's supposed focus on finding a cure for the plague. Maybe people just didn't care any more. Maybe they were relieved that all the madmen had been locked up, away from them.  
He became absorbed in the soccer, eyes tracing the coloured figures streaking across the screen. The more he watched, the more he realised how depressed he was becoming. Stuck in a windowless cell with nothing but a TV, bed and piss bucket for company was grating on him. He scratched his head. He was getting hungry. So far he'd eaten those shitty tinned prunes and drunk nothing but lukewarm water. It was worse that what he had back at his pad. The commentator roared his approval as one of the teams just missed a goal.  
Without warning, the man in white leapt to his feet and strode to the door, activating it and leaving without a word. On the way though, he almost tripped over his own two feet, stumbling and fumbling. Then he froze at the doorway to gaze back at Zeke, who hadn't moved. Once again his mouth opened and once again he said nothing. Just closed it and gritted his teeth, crushing the wall beneath his right hand. It was then that Zeke noticed something in Kessler's luminescent blue eyes. Something familiar. Something that reminded him of...Cole. Perhaps the way they both ground their teeth and glared whenever his friend was impatient or angry. Perhaps the sympathy behind the frustration. Zeke blinked.  
Kessler was gone in a flash of white, the door slamming shut, and Zeke breathed out a sigh of relief. That was close, he thought to himself.


End file.
